


The hours of dark, the whispered bright

by sciencebluefeelings



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Dubious Consent, Human Spock (Star Trek), M/M, Pon Farr, Starfleet Academy, Vulcan McCoy (Star Trek)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26604073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencebluefeelings/pseuds/sciencebluefeelings
Summary: In a different timeline, Spock first encounters Doctor McCoy during the Fall of Vulcan.
Relationships: Amanda Grayson/Sarek, James T. Kirk & Spock, Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock
Comments: 46
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OnlySlightlyObsessed1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlySlightlyObsessed1/gifts).



> _Ko'mekh_ is ‘mother’ in Vulcan.

Spock's _ko'mekh_ is a renowned Vulcan ambassador. She is a descendant of Surak, as T'Pau is quick to remind her (and by extension, Spock). _Ko'mekh_ is the epitome of a model Vulcan with her perfect poise and control, but her expression never ceases to soften around Mother.

Mother told Spock that she met _Ko'mekh_ on Earth, where Mother had been born and raised despite being fully Vulcan. They met at a virtual concert, and Mother had fallen in love at first sight. Mother likes to joke that _Ko'mekh_ thought she was a Romulan at first, and that _Ko'mekh_ had never met _'such an illogical Vulcan in her life'_.

 _'Of course, she had to marry me right away,_ ' Mother would say with a laugh.

They had adopted Spock and then moved to Vulcan, the only place he has remembered living in. Spock's blood is completely human, but he calls himself Vulcan. He is a Vulcan citizen, and shares the same rights and responsibilities as any Vulcan with Vulcan blood.

Until Spock turned twenty standard years of age, he had been convinced that he would apply to receive an education at the prestigious Vulcan Science Academy. The taunts of his peers did not deter him, abrasive remarks about his rounded ears and appearance that differentiated himself from the heritage of his parents.

 _Ko'mekh_ supplied little commentary for Spock's hardship, but Mother was always devastated when Spock returned home with a bruised chin or split lip. It had led to many unhappy, hushed conversations between Spock's parents. He did not enjoy it when they fought. He found himself working twice as hard, whether to avoid becoming a disappointment or to avoid the tense environment at home, he was unsure.

Mother encouraged Spock, reassuring him he had every chance of getting into the Academy as his admittedly intellectually superior Vulcan peers. Spock refused to be restrained by the limits of his own mind. He focused on his own unique attributes that would assure him a worthy addition to the Academy.

Then Spock turns twenty, and his entire planet is rocked by the Battle of Vulcan, a name he will later come to resent. It is a paltry euphemism for a cruel massacre.

Spock is in the local library studying for the entrance exam when the earthquakes begin. There is terror and confusion in the streets, and Vulcans are being systematically evacuated into space by Starfleet officers. There are several other officers attempting to guide the crowd, and Spock is hearing seven different interpretations of the events currently occurring.

None of it matters. All Spock can think about are his mothers and where they could possibly be. He fights against the flow of the crowd, only to be grabbed by both shoulders.

Spock looks back at the Starfleet doctor that had stopped him, a broad-shouldered man exactly his height. His ears suggest Vulcan blood, however the facial hair can only be from the genetics of a human.

"Release me," Spock says, projecting his voice above the chaos surrounding them.

"I can't," the doctor says. "You need to evacuate now."

"My _ko'mekh_ ," Spock chokes out.

"There's a high probability they've already been evacuated, and are anticipating you will do the same. The doctor curses. "Your leg - you shouldn’t be running around with an injury like that!"

Spock only then realizes there is a large gash on his shin, shredding through the fabric of his grey trousers and profusely bleeding out red down to his sandal. The Starfleet doctor gently slings Spock’s arm over his shoulder and assists him through the jostling crowd. Spock dimly wonders if he is in shock as his bloodied foot begins to slip with each step.

The doctor leads Spock to an emergency medical station aboard one of the many starships, and Spock feels himself laid down on a cot as the floor tilts beneath them. The starship is now accelerating through the atmosphere. Spock closes his eyes and is faintly aware of the doctor’s soothing psi impulses through his touch as he cleans and treats Spock’s wound. Even for a psi-null individual like Spock, the doctor radiates calm and control. Spock’s leg is bandaged, but the doctor does not leave immediately, continuing to alleviate Spock’s pain and anxiety through his telepathic contact.

"Thank you, Doctor." Spock’s voice sounds miserable to his own ears, but the doctor smiles with his eyes and Spock’s stomach twists in response.

"This will only sting for a moment," the doctor warns before he injects Spock with a hypospray. "Do you have a comm to contact your family?"

"No." Spock had lost his comm while escaping from the library. The doctor gives Spock a standard issue comm before standing with a final gentle touch to Spock’s shoulder. Spock clutches the comm as he watches the doctor join another Starfleet officer on the other side of the room gesturing him over.

Spock dials his _ko'mekh_ with a racing heart and has never felt more relieved to hear his _ko'mekh_ and frantic mother’s voices on the other end.

"I have evacuated safely," Spock whispers. "I am on Starfleet Emergency Vessel 311."

"Oh, thank the stars," Mother sobs. "Our baby's safe."

Spock had felt a strange constraining sensation in his chest this whole time, and that sensation only magnified as the doctor smiled at another patient, a young child, before stretching up and checking on the family next to them. It is as if there is a halo of light about the doctor's regal poise.

 _Ko'mekh's_ voice grows louder. "Are you alright, son?"

Spock looks at his bandaged leg and his blush burns his cheeks. " _Ko'mekh_ , Mother, I think I'm in love."

"Of course our son would choose a day like this to learn what it's like to be enamored for the first time," Mother says with an exaggerated sigh.

"Mother," Spock complains.

Starfleet had barely managed to save the planet, but the cost of lives was unfathomable. The perpetrator had been a Romulan from the future with a cruel vendetta. He had attacked Vulcan with his superior technology and firepower, and half of Vulcan had been destroyed before Starfleet could disable his ship and arrest the Romulan and his crew.

There is much talk among the Vulcans, how this will affect the diplomatic and cultural tensions with the Romulans, but Spock chooses not to concern himself with such matters at the present. He is in a hotel room with his mothers, attempting to assist them as they suffer from the damage to their universal Vulcan bonds. The room is meant to be a temporary residence until Starfleet can determine Vulcan to be stable for resettling.

 _Ko'mekh_ and Mother are resting together on the bed while Spock sits on the couch nearby, wrapped in blankets and elevating his injured leg. He is researching using his PADD. The television is on and visuals of Starfleet officers and Vulcans flicker on the screen.

Spock startles at the face of a familiar doctor being interviewed by the reporter. _Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy_ , the name onscreen reads _._ He looks just as magnificent onscreen as he does in real life, assertive and clever.

Spock lowers the PADD and turns to Mother. "That is him. The one who assisted me."

Mother raises her eyebrows at the television. "A human doctor."

"Vulcan," _Ko'mekh_ says. "I have heard of this Vulcan doctor. He is still quite young, but his medical papers are acclaimed in his field of work."

"Well, I'll be. Look at that beard, stars above." Mother pokes Spock. "Not a bad face. I can understand why you're ditching the VSA to apply for Starfleet instead."

 _Ko'mekh_ speaks with acute disapproval. "You are not actually going to enlist in Starfleet?"

Spock glares. "If I am, that is my decision to make."

"It is a decision made from questionable motivations in a hasty expanse of time."

Mother rests her head on _Ko'mekh's_ shoulder. "Oh, come now, _k'diwa_. You were always the one saying the VSA might not be best fit for our son. I think Spock would be more than capable of succeeding at Starfleet."

"I did not discount his abilities," _Ko'mekh_ says flatly, but she offers her hand for a kiss. Mother shakes her head with a tired smile and reciprocates.

Later when Mother has fallen asleep and Spock is preparing to sleep on the couch bed, _Ko'mekh_ approaches him. Her expression is serious, the closest Spock has seen to concern. "Son, I advise you to anticipate for disappointment, no matter how exceptional this doctor has been to you. People are never who Spock they seem at first encounter. It is a fact."

Spock bristles. He hardly knows the doctor, yet he feels compelled to defend him from his _ko'mekh's_ scrutiny. "The same could be said for yourself. You cannot harshly judge someone you have not taken the time to get to know yourself."

Spock returns his attention to his PADD and the Starfleet Academy application guidelines. As soon as he can ensure his _ko'mekh_ and mother have a safe place of residence, he will enlist at once.

Spock had never felt prouder than on the evening before his first day at Starfleet Academy. _Ko'mekh_ and Mother were there to assist his move into the dormitory, and Mother insisted Spock change into his uniform to take pictures of him next to the famous Starfleet Academy fountain.

Mother laughs freely as _Ko'mekh_ and Spock pose together stiffly as Mother takes pictures. "You two look absolutely wonderful," Mother says. She manages to find an innocent bystander to take a picture of the three of them. _Ko'mekh_ is expressionless while reviewing the images, but she tells Mother to transfer all of them to her comm immediately. Spock allows himself to feel secret triumph.

"Are you nervous, Spock?" Mother asks while they eat dinner together. Spock takes extra caution to prevent splattering any food on his pristine uniform.

"I am fine, Mother," Spock says. It is the truth.

"That Vulcan doctor hero, have you made contact with him again yet?"

The blush returns. "Mother, of course not."

"Bring us back a nice Vulcan doctor husband, Spock. The diploma is an optional bonus," Mother teases. She looks at _Ko'mekh_. "Wouldn't you agree, dear?"

 _Ko'mekh_ looks at her tea. "I have no opinion on the matter."

Mother winks at Spock. "See, that's her blessing. You have our support, sweetie."

Spock shyly brings his water glass to his mouth, hoping the chill of the ice would be enough to quell the blush coloring his face down to his neck.

Spock takes a deep breath and rechecks his inventory spread in front of him. Notebook, pen, pencil, an extra pencil and pencil sharpener, calculator and highlighter pens from Mother. He is seated at the front of the classroom ready for the introductory medical field training course. Spock had specifically applied for this Starfleet Academy branch knowing one of the instructors that taught this course here.

"Oh my god. You look like you're here to actually do work." Spock looks up at the identity of the voice to see a dark-haired human sit in the seat next to his. "Are you sure you're not in the wrong classroom, buddy? Looking for Doctor M'Benga or Doctor Chapel's exact same introductory course?"

Spock's voice is hesitant. "This is the classroom for Doctor Leonard McCoy, is it not?"

The human raises both eyebrows. "Well, this oughta be interesting. You know what this doc is famous for at this academy, right?"

Before Spock can respond, the bell rings. The podium at the front of the class is empty, and half the students have not arrived.

"Right on time. As in not on time at all." The human offers a handshake. "Name's Jim, by the way."

Spock offers a ta'al. "Spock."

"Oh, hm. Vulcan." Jim retracts his hand to hold up a ta'al. "Do you know Doctor McCoy or something?"

Spock's infuriating blush returns. Jim's grin is a blinding white. He must have had his teeth surgically enhanced. "Shit, one of those, huh? Well, I can't deny he's hot as fuck. Didn't think you'd be one of the students here to oogle him."

"That is untrue," Spock begins before the doors slam open. Spock's heartbeat races in his throat as he looks up at the doctor striding across the front of the classroom. It's him.

Then Spock frowns a little. Doctor McCoy is not in uniform, wearing casual civilian wear instead. His appearance is unkept and he looks as if he has not bathed recently.

Doctor McCoy discards his bag and coat to the floor and checks the podium mic. He scans the students and Spock internally wills the doctor to acknowledge him in some way. Surely he would recognize Spock? Would he be pleased?

Doctor McCoy huffs. "Good god, they get younger every year." He takes out his PADD and checks something. A long pause drags out. Doctor McCoy toes off his shoes and then his socks, so that he is standing barefoot on the carpeted floor. Spock stares, appalled.

"Okay, I guess I should start with attendance. Arket?"

Doctor McCoy reads through the names rapidly. Less than a third are present. Spock’s heartbeat quickens when the doctor reads his name aloud with a roguish Vulcan accent, but there is no sign of recognition from his eyes when he looks at Spock.

Doctor McCoy finishes reading the attendance and there’s another long silence as he scrolls through his PADD. He clicks his tongue. "You know what, I can't find my notes. Guess I didn't transfer them from my house." The doctor scratches his calf with his toenails and hums. "Guess nothing can be done about that. Class dismissed."

The atmosphere is cheerful as students filter out of the classroom, but Spock sits in shock. Jim gives Spock a lingering sympathetic look before shouldering his own backpack and exiting the classroom with the other students.

Spock gathers his belongings into his backpack and approaches Doctor McCoy, who has put his socks back on and is resting on the floor, stretching out his back.

"Doctor," Spock says. Doctor McCoy squints up at Spock. "Will you not provide a syllabus?"

"The hell do you need that for?"

Spock’s brows furrow. "Is it not standard to receive an instructional plan of the curriculum we must prepare for? Furthermore, you have not disclosed your office hours."

Doctor McCoy waves his hand. "Yeah, yeah, I'll make something for you. Do you not understand what 'dismissed' means? Go do something fun."

Spock reluctantly exits the room, unease growing in his stomach.

Three weeks pass. Doctor McCoy still has not provided a syllabus.

Doctor McCoy mumbles during his presentations and provides little to no workload outside of the classroom. Fewer and fewer students arrive on time or at all, until the only students remaining are Spock, Jim for some unforeseen reason, and three other individuals.

It’s time for class and the doctor is late again. Spock glares at the door. "Perhaps he is a brilliant doctor, but he is also a wholly ineffective teacher. I find his gross negligence appalling."

Jim twirls his pencil next to Spock. "Maybe we could sneak into M'Benga's classroom? I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

"I will not accept defeat."

"Oohkay, then." Jim rests his chin on his hand. "How long have you had a crush on Doctor McCoy?"

"You ask for my opinions about him rather frequently," Spock mutters as his ears go hot. "I am beginning to suspect it is not because you care for what I have to say, but rather you enjoy my embarrassing physical response."

Jim grins. "Look at you, smart Vulcan. Cute and smart." Jim checks the time. "Do you think he'll show up?"

"He must," Spock says firmly.

They wait the entire class period and the doctor never shows up.

"He is wasting our time," Spock complains as he and Jim walk to the mess hall. "Is it such an arduous task to submit a notification to us that he will not be present?" Spock realizes Jim is looking at him. "Is something wrong?"

"Hm? Oh. Nah."

Spock waits for Jim to elaborate, but he does not. They sit across from each other with their meal trays. Spock stabs his salad with his eating utensil. "I do not understand the concepts of our last unit."

Jim toys with his napkin. "Same. I looked up some of the content online, I could send you what I found."

"I would appreciate that. However, we will all be inadequately prepared for the final assessment if Doctor McCoy continues to disregard our education in this manner."

Jim shrugs. "You could figure out where his office is. Who knows if he's ever in there, though."

Spock nods. "I shall do so tomorrow. In the meantime, I would not be averse to your company while studying." Jim has that same strange expression on his face. "Have I said something improper again?"

"No, no. I like how you talk."

Spock blinks. "I see. I believe the correct response to such a statement would be, 'thank you'."

Jim shakes his head fondly and picks up his chopsticks.

Spock hesitantly looks through the opened office door. Doctor McCoy looks up from his desk. "Hello? Have a seat. Are you here to submit a class drop form?"

Spock sits upright in the chair on the other side of McCoy's desk. "No, I am here with a question from the practice test you supplied us with three days ago. I request additional assistance."

McCoy huffs, then goes through his drawers and pulls out a stapled packet of papers which Spock recognizes as the attendance. "You’re Spock." McCoy looks at him. "Do you have a human name?"

Spock is speechless for a moment. "Pardon? Why would I have a human name?"

McCoy looks Spock up and down before quirking an eyebrow. Spock quells his irritation. "I am a Vulcan citizen and have lived in Vulcan my entire life."

McCoy grunts and tosses aside the attendance. "Show me what you need help with."

Spock is wary as he takes out his PADD, but McCoy shows none of the disinterest he has shown while lecturing. His instruction is precise and informative, and he asks Spock thoughtful questions. In a tutoring environment, McCoy is incredibly helpful, even supportive. It does not compute.

McCoy leans back. "Well, I think you're set, Spock. Is there anything else you'd like to ask me?"

Spock’s burning curiosity wins over. "Doctor, do you know that we have met before?"

"Have we? Here at the academy?"

"No. During the Fall of Vulcan."

"I met a lot of people that day," is the tepid response.

Outrageous. Even with his half-Vulcan heritage, the doctor is unable to recall encountering Spock. Perhaps the doctor is not nearly as intelligent as Spock had perceived him. Spock shakes his head. "Doctor, I have one final question."

"Shoot."

Spock hesitates, suddenly unsure how to word his sentence. "Why do you - do this?"

Unexpectedly, the doctor tilts his head back and laughs loudly. "You're curious why they haven't kicked me out yet?"

Spock doesn't reply.

"Listen, kid-"

"I am not a child," Spock interrupts with hot cheeks. "Our ages are more similar than I suspect you imagine."

"Spock," Doctor McCoy amends. "Look, if you want me to put in a good word for you, I know M'Benga or Chapel would love to have you in their section. It's all the same material."

"No," Spock says firmly. "Your offer is appreciated, but I am not going anywhere."

McCoy's gaze slides over Spock, suddenly very dark and overwhelming. Spock scrambles for his belongings and stands quickly. "I appreciate your time, Doctor. Thank you."

He leaves without looking back.

For the rest of the course, Spock sits through McCoy's uninspiring lectures and then learns mostly through discussing questions with McCoy in his office. Once Spock's curiosity is satiated, he goes back to Jim to study together.

Spock anticipates the day the younger human inevitably asks him out on a date. Spock must respectfully decline. He braces for the worst, but Jim takes the rejection good-naturedly, and he does not cease to slip into Spock's dorm room at late hours in the night to curl in bed next to Spock. Spock watches Jim's focused gaze while they are studying. He is a good person - Spock feels genuine regret that he cannot be the answer to Jim's loneliness.

On the day of the exam, the final day of the introductory course, all three sections of academy students sat in the same room to take the test.

Spock is the last to turn in his exam. He walks to the front of the room where the three instructions are waiting. Spock puts down the synthesized grey paper and looks directly at McCoy. "Doctor McCoy, would you be amenable to tea at fourteen hundred standard hours at the academy cafe?"

M'Benga and Chapel both look at McCoy. McCoy scratches his head. "Hell, why not. I'll see you in two hours."

Spock inclines his head slightly and exits the room. The solid doors close behind him, and he allows himself to feel a silent, very un-Vulcan burst of triumph.

Spock finds McCoy waiting for him, seated at a table on the second floor. It provided them a marginal amount of more privacy, although there was nothing inherently wrong with Spock sharing tea with his former instructor.

"How old are you again?" McCoy asks the moment Spock sits across from him.

Spock tastes his tea, and it is bitter. "Twenty-two standard years."

"Three years younger than me. . . You're a lot older than most of these cadets here. How did that happen?"

Spock explains how he had originally intended to study at the Vulcan Science Academy and had been preparing for the exam. Then the Battle of Vulcan had occurred, and Spock had decided to enlist in Starfleet. Spock doesn't mention the factor of McCoy. "You never answered my question, Doctor."

McCoy purses his lips. "Hm?"

"I inquired as to your choice of methods for the instruction of your course. It is not particularly effective, however I know you are a knowledgeable and skilled practitioner with the capability to educate with great wisdom."

McCoy leans back in his chair. "Well, we've gotta have one out of the three of us. Chapel and M'Benga teach the same material as me, and the kids know that. If they're serious and want to receive an education, they'll make their way over there eventually. We have a lot of brilliant minds that come in, true, but there's a lot of them that would be better off somewhere else. Starfleet doesn't have room for selfish slackers, for people that only come because their parents made them. I'm just helping to weed them out."

Spock considers this. "I do not approve, but I can understand the arrangement. It is a logical setup."

"Logical," Doctor McCoy scoffs. He grabs his coffee cup and takes a large gulp. "You almost seem Vulcan when you say that."

Spock's spine goes rigid. He speaks slowly. "What do you mean by that?"

McCoy lets out a long breath through his nose. "Listen, you - Spock, right?"

"Yes," Spock says warily.

Doctor McCoy’s voice is very kind. "How long will you keep this act up?"

Suddenly everything is distant, Doctor McCoy’s words, the walls of the room around them. The doctor continues to speak. "Look at yourself. You're human. And you'll always be human. The way you feel and act will always be the result of your human blood. If you keep denying who you are, you'll never be happy."

Spock cannot form a response, he has so many things to say and cannot articulate any of them. McCoy leans back in his chair and mutters, "What’s so great about being Vulcan anyways?"

Spock stands so fast he knocks his chair back into the wall. He speaks too fast and too loud. "I acknowledge our people share their own flaws, especially in adherence to tradition and in the treatment of species that are not our own. However, your dismissive attitude is reprehensible and you should be ashamed of yourself."

The inferno of burning anger swirling inside of him feels distant. Spock takes a step back. "I will infer that your incredibly hurtful words have been said out of ignorance and not due to malicious intent. I will leave now. If you desire to continue this dialogue, I would appreciate you giving me time to recollect myself."

Spock stumbles as he walks away, out of the cafe and down the pavement through the campus. He'd forgotten his coat, and he is already shuddering from the cold.

Spock takes a long, deep breath. He is shocked by his own anger. He had not known it was possible to hate someone this much, especially someone he had held in such high regard for a long time.

Spock eventually finds his way back to his dorm room and collapses into his bed, hands pressed over his face.

Spock does not know how long he has been curled up under his blankets. Perhaps it has been hours. Perhaps days. He does not care. His communicator has rung once or twice. Spock suspects it is Jim. It is not good to worry the young human, Spock's only true friend, but Spock cannot move. He struggles to catalog the myriad of emotions he is feeling. Resentment? Humiliation for trusting - for desiring such a callous individual?

Spock finally rises to go to the bathroom. He washes his hands and dries his hands on his pants before trodding to his comm. Sure enough, there is a message from Jim with forced casual dialogue asking if Spock is alright. There is also a notification on his PADD informing of an urgent notification from the Vulcan Council. Spock frowns and opens the message to read it.

_As per your designation on your Vulcan citizenship card renewed annually, you have agreed to be matched through the Vulcan database for citizens requesting a bondmate to fulfill the pon farr commitment._

Spock puts the PADD back down. He collapses back into bed and stares at the ceiling. For the first time since arriving in his room, the space feels very small.

Half an hour later, Spock finally responds to Jim's message, but he cannot bring himself to open the Vulcan Council's message. Spock refuses to acknowledge any qualms he may have about the arranged marriage. It is a common occurrence among Vulcans to be bonded from an early age due to the time of mating. A bond is necessary, or else the fires of pon farr will never cease.

Spock had not been bonded as a child due to his human ancestry. He is now merely fulfilling his capabilities as a Vulcan citizen. He will meet this bondmate with enthusiasm. Perhaps this Vulcan would even be compatible with Spock, and they would become longtime companions, intimate lovers like _Ko'mekh_ and Mother.

Spock braces himself and opens the Council’s message. He is confronted with the unmistakable profile picture of Doctor McCoy.


	2. Chapter 2

Everything becomes distant. Spock is to be married to Doctor McCoy? Spock continues to read, numb with denial, but the information lists the doctor’s name and other personal attributes, among them his half-Vulcan heritage. The rest of the message relays the time and date of the match, the contact information if Spock wishes to withdraw prior to the in-person meeting, and the location and week that Spock will meet with his new bondmate.

Spock puts the PADD down. He had always suspected he would bond through necessity, not for mutual affection, but he did not think he would be bonding with someone who regarded him with such utter contempt.

Spock has heard crying is a cathartic process when one is overwhelmed. It seems like a favorable prospect at this time. Tears do not come, so Spock reluctantly takes his comm and dials the only number he can think to call.

The phone rings four times before going quiet. " _Sweetie_!" Mother says. " _Hold on, oh, it's so good for you to call._ " Her voice goes distant as she bellows, " _Sarek! Our baby's on the phone, love! Come here!_ "

Spock closes his eyes. "Mother."

" _Son,_ " _Ko'mekh_ says, somehow unconcerned and caring all at once.

Spock blinks rapidly. " _Ko'mekh_."

The concern increases. " _Son, what's wrong?_ "

Spock can almost see Mother frowning. " _Sarek, just because Spock calls-_ "

"I've been arranged to marry my chosen bondmate," Spock says with a rush of breath. The answer of silence is deafening.

Spock waits for _Ko'mekh_ to say something about duty as a citizen, about responsibility, about unnecessary feelings. She does not say anything.

Mother's voice is gentle. " _Spock, tell us what's wrong._ "

Spock's concern sounds immature to his own ears. "I fear that my bondmate will not harbor me in the same regard that I shall for them.

Mother sighs. " _Are you familiar with the individual in question?_ "

" _It does not matter,_ " Ko'mekh says. " _You have until the time of mating to make a decision to bond, Spock. If you know you will not be loved by this prospective individual, you are not compelled to be tied to them._ "

"Why," Spock says, his anger mounting. "Because I am weak? Because of my human blood that can never be accepted as Vulcan?"

" _Because you are my son,_ " _Ko'mekh_ says simply. " _Someone that cannot care for you and your needs does not deserve to be in union with you._ "

Spock's fury dissipates from the protective words.

" _You'll be alright, Spock,_ " _Ko'mekh_ concludes. " _You understand what you need better than I or your Mother. Is there anything else of concern you wish to bring to our attention?_ "

Spock frowns a little, but his chest feels as if it has lightened immensely. "There is nothing in particular I can think of."

" _Yes, there is. Tell us what it is._ "

" _Oh, talk to your_ Ko'mehk, _sweetheart. She misses you._ "

Spock sighs. "Fifteen minutes. I must study for an exam tomorrow."

" _Very well. I accept._ "

Spock ends up talking to them for much longer than fifteen minutes. By the time he hangs up, his head is feeling clearer and his chest less constricted. He cleans himself and tidies his room in time to eat lunch with Jim, who responds to the news with shock. He seems even more unnerved by Spock’s calm attitude.

“It is the norm in our culture,” Spock says. “Due to our inherent biology, it would be less secure to form a union at a whim or through the prospect of compatibility. No one knows what time will reveal.”

Jim just shakes his head. “Hopefully the doctor’s nicer to you now than he was to the students. I’m not saying this because of me. You deserve better, Spock.”

Part of Spock silently agrees to all Jim says, but according to his accumulated observations thus far, Spock suspects that such an easy progression is not in his future.

The arranged meeting place is in a public park located outside the confines of the Academy campus. Spock waits, wearing his immaculate black shirt and pressed trousers. He has the marriage confirmation card with its unique serial number in his hand. He must show it to his new mate to confirm his identity. The prospective mate will also have a card to confirm his own identity.

Spock hears the footsteps on gravel and looks up at Doctor McCoy, who is in a large coat and not nearly dressed as formally as Spock. They stare at each other for a moment. McCoy shakes his head. "If I hadn't known how much you despise my guts, I would've thought you manipulated this somehow."

Spock's mental control shatters. "If I had the capability to manipulate the results in some form, we would not be standing here right now."

McCoy raises an eyebrow. "We're technically still on probationary period. You can reject me."

It is a luxury Spock has because his body will never go into pon farr. But to do so would mean admitting defeat to this ignorant half-Vulcan, and accepting the benefits of his own human blood. Spock purses his lips and looks away. "Regardless, the chances were miniscule that we would be matched."

"Not really," the doctor admits. "What were your filters on choosing a mate?"

"I had none."

"Well, I had a few." McCoy shifts to his other leg. "Namely, I needed someone that could form a passive bond with me. Someone that was psi-null."

Almost all Vulcans form active mental bonds as part of their biology. As a psi-null individual, Spock would be one of the only candidates for McCoy to be matched with. The lack of an active bond to communicate through would be seen as a detriment to most Vulcan couples, and Spock hated from a young age that he would never be privy to the security of a mental bond.

Spock's negative mood deepens, but he squares his shoulders. "It does not matter. The process is complete. We shall consummate the marriage and complete the bonding."

McCoy splutters. "Look, Mr. Spock. I know we started off on the wrong footing, but isn't that a little - we're getting _married_. We'll be spending a lot more time with each other."

"Eighteen percent of Vulcans bond without treating it as a romantic relationship or commitment. Their relationship is merely a necessary exchange," Spock says primly.

"Well, there's no exchange happening here, if I must remind you. I'm the one that needs you."

"I don't care," Spock lies.

McCoy rolls his eyes. "Spock, can I at least try to make amends before we have awkward mandatory sex?"

"If you are attempting to make amends at this point, you are doing a poor job," Spock observes. McCoy's eye twitches and Spock feels a spark of triumph.

McCoy takes a deep breath. "We have some time. I'm not going into pon farr for another month. I want to get to know my bondmate before we commit to - whatever we commit to. And then we can consummate the bond."

Spock wonders if delaying a meeting would discourage the doctor or simply render him more stubborn in his advances. McCoy looks on with a sharp gaze. "Very well," Spock amends. "I accept. When do you propose we meet? You may inform me of the location and time.”

"Today, of course."

Spock blinks at the abrupt proposal. "Today?" he echoes.

McCoy lifts his chin. "Yeah. Do you have something you need to do?"

Which is how they end up in a restaurant together. It begins poorly. The vegan options are severely limited, a foresight McCoy had failed to anticipate due to his own omnivorous diet. Spock had expected McCoy to share the diet of nearly all Vulcans, and this knowledge served only to further distance them.

Spock takes the serving spoon when the food is served, wondering if McCoy knew of the traditional Vulcan gesture to feed your bondmate. McCoy thanks Spock for offering part of his meal but declines it because Spock’s portion sizes are so small.

Their discussion had tapered off some time ago when Spock tentatively attempted to bring up family, knowing compatibility would be a beneficial factor. McCoy refuses to comment, trying to change the subject to something else.

Spock has barely tasted his food, but he is ready to leave. "I understand you are attempting to appease our situation in your best interests, but I have a load of laundry to attend to among other tasks. I find you an inconvenient waste of time."

McCoy splutters. "Fuck you?"

"You are not making this easier for either of us, Doctor."

McCoy's voice rises. "You're not the one who has to deal with a 'fuck or die' disease!" Spock discreetly looks about as McCoy barely refrains from tossing aside his fork. "I hate my Vulcan side. It's brought me nothing but trouble."

"Trouble?" Spock focuses on the doctor once more. "You received acclaim and high praise from the Vulcan community for your research and articles. I was tormented by my peers from a young age for my blood."

McCoy goes still, and Spock attempts to keep his body language indifferent. "However, those are events that no longer concern me. It is illogical to maintain a grudge over past occurrences that cannot be altered."

McCoy leans closer. "You never deserved to be treated like that, though."

"Perhaps. It is all in the past."

"You mentioned it's illogical to still be upset. But you are."

"That is a baseless accusation, Doctor."

"No," McCoy insisted, frowning at Spock. "You are."

Spock feels a whisper of a touch at the edge of his mind and nearly stands up. "You have been reading me," Spock says, appalled.

"Spock, wait-"

"The least you could do before entering my mind is ask for my consent in advance."

"I didn’t read anything and my telepathy is involuntary," McCoy blurts. His voice turns bitter. "I can't control it, and believe me, I hate it as much as you. Anyways, I can't read you, remember? You're psi-null."

Spock never went through the rigorous mental training of the other young Vulcans to control their proximity telepathy. To him, it was merely another reminder that he would never be the same as his peers. "Were you never taught to control your abilities?" Spock asks.

McCoy gives a helpless shrug. "I've asked so many different mentors and none of them have been able to help. I hate that I can't do anything about it, because believe me, I would."

"I did not notice before."

"Well, before I wasn't focused completely on you like I am right at this moment." McCoy shakes his head. "Anyways, the only reason I know you’re upset is because usually you look like a statue, but now you look like a statue with bright red ears."

The comment only serves to deepen Spock’s angry blush. He falls silent, eyeing McCoy. McCoy sighs. "I’ll stop talking now. Finish your food, Spock."

_You cannot tell me what to do._ Spock bites back the childish retort and focuses on his utensil and plate. The doctor keeps his word and there is no more dialogue until they finish their meals and leave the restaurant. The evening is unexpectedly cool.

McCoy hails a taxi to return them to the academy, and then walks with Spock to the edge of the cadet’s courtyard. Spock stops walking to face him. "Do you plan to proceed with our arrangement, Doctor?"

"It’s the question I should be asking you. I’m surprised you haven’t slapped me across the face and stormed off by now."

"Such an excessive display would be poor conduct and an embarrassment of Vulcan control."

"Of course it would be." McCoy tucks his hands into his coat pockets. "And you’re not getting rid of me that easily, unfortunately."

For a fleeting moment, Spock misconstrues the statement as McCoy confessing his unrevealed feelings before remembering the doctor has no choice but to have a mate for pon farr. Spock averts his gaze.

McCoy takes an awkward step back. "Come visit me at my laboratory whenever you have time."

"The graduate studies building?" Spock can’t help his interest at the invitation. The graduate student laboratories are the best in the Academy, perhaps in several galaxies.

"Yes," McCoy says. "Just message me. I’ll let you know if I’m there to let you in."

"Oh. Thank you. Your offer is appreciated." What does it say about Spock’s character to the doctor, that the allure of state-of-the-art equipment is enough to overcome a disappointing first date?

McCoy just looks amused. "I’ll say goodnight, now, then."

Spock nods. "Yes. Goodnight, Doctor."

"You can say Leonard, you know. We’re getting married after all."

"Goodnight, Doctor." Spock repeats firmly.

McCoy snorts. Spock watches him leave in the direction of his own apartment. McCoy turns to look back once before he moves past the corner out of sight.

When Spock texts McCoy early next morning, the last thing he is expecting is a quick response and McCoy standing at the graduate building threshold, gesturing Spock inside with an amused expression. "Had a feeling you’d take your time."

Spock breezes past him. "Thank you, Doctor."

"Leonard," McCoy prods him.

Spock looks around at the hallway. "Where is the laboratory?"

"Right this way. And sorry for the mess." They change into the mandatory sterile uniforms and walk through the sonics decontamination chamber. Spock knows McCoy is watching his expression as they enter the lab, but Spock couldn’t care less. The equipment and stores of bottled specimens are incredible.

McCoy examines some of the boxes on a table near the desk. "I used to be involved in a collaborative study project, but the other guys weren’t picking up their end of the slack, so I told them I was out. It’s a shame, too, it was an interesting project."

"What was the focus of the project?" Spock peers at the boxes McCoy was holding. "Ruxolitinib-14. This prevents the formation of the Janus kianse 2 gene."

"That’s right," McCoy says, clearly surprised. "Most people don’t know about it."

"I discovered it while researching human hematopoietic stem cells." As Spock looks at another sealed container, McCoy takes out more capsules. "You might be interested in this."

Spock avoids touching McCoy’s hands as he examines the contents. “What is this all for?”

“We’ve been studying possible alternatives to standard myelosuppressive drugs such as hydroxyurea.” McCoy looks pleased to share his data with Spock, who reads avidly. McCoy explains the stage at which he and his collaborative group had paused their investigation, and Spock offers to assist him.

McCoy sits next to Spock and demonstrates the complex procedure. He appears impressed by Spock’s familiarity with the equipment. “If you could figure out why the hydroxyurea becomes inert when combined with HPS-600, that would be incredible. It’s really creating a brick wall in the process of the research.”

Spock looks at the data table. “I shall see if I can figure it out.”

They work together, streamlining the process of the meticulous procedure. Gone is the quarrelish attitudes of before. McCoy is an optimal lab partner with no extraneous commentary as he discusses the research with Spock. They work in sync as Spock examines the hydroxyurea. Spock is barely aware of anything outside of McCoy and the lab equipment in the vicinity around him.

After hours of checking over new data compared to the old data, Spock discovers a crucial element in the chemical reaction between the hydroxyurea and a lingering byproduct within the manufactured HPS-600 drug. He is not sure what it is, but it is an anomaly to be explored. Spock nearly jumps up from his chair, he is so pleased. "Leonard, look at this."

When Spock looks up, McCoy is staring. "You said it."

"What?"

"My name." The doctor sounds the happiest Spock had ever heard him. "You said Leonard."

Spock blinks. "It appears so." A genuine smile creeps across the doctor’s face, and Spock feels his heart flutter against his will. “Look at this number set. I do not recognize the pattern, but you may be able to provide more insight.”

McCoy reads it, then looks up at the wall clock. "I do, and I could explain it to you, but it’s already late in the afternoon."

Spock stretches his back. "I was unaware so much time had passed."

"Me, too. I have papers to grade. And we need to eat."

Spock’s memory replays the disastrous dinner the night before, and judging from McCoy’s expression, he had thought the same. "May I return tomorrow?"

McCoy’s soft expression returns. "Sure, Spock."

**

Spock unexpectedly is unable to visit the graduate studies laboratories the next day due to a change in his schedule for academic advising. Spock messages McCoy to inform him, and McCoy responds immediately. Then Spock realizes tomorrow he must work on an important project for Ethics with Jim. He will not be able to visit the lab until the day afterwards. And then he falls ill with a cold.

The miscellaneous events fill his schedule, and Spock ends up unable to go back to the lab for eight days. He is unable to quell a nervousness as he informs McCoy each time, not wanting McCoy to misconstrue the unfortunate events as Spock avoiding him. What if McCoy decided to never invite Spock back to the graduate lab?

The first afternoon Spock can go to the lab, he nearly rushes through the front door. He doesn't care if he will be mocked for his display of enthusiasm. He wants to look at the Ruxolitinib samples again.

McCoy is quiet for approximately half an hour before Spock looks up from a microscope and realizes McCoy had been watching him. McCoy jolts. “Ah, sorry. Spock - what do you think of this outlier in the data pool for the tyrosine-protein?”

They look down at the PADD together, After that, easy dialogue spills between them once more. They talk more about the research, which leads to a discussion on the collection system and a debate on the quality of the collected samples. McCoy listens carefully to everything Spock has to say. They don’t leave until they get kicked out by maintenance.

Spock is there early next morning. McCoy lets him in. Spock blinks at the papers scattered about on a separate bench, and McCoy laughs sheepishly. “Brought stuff to grade. Don’t really have to be anywhere specific to read bad essays.”

Spock hesitates. “Doctor, if I am intruding-”

“No,” McCoy interrupts. “You do not get to finish that sentence, alright? Sit down and do your nerd thing.” Spock ignores the warmth of the realization of how the doctor is accommodating him.

Time goes by quickly. Occasionally McCoy will look away from what he is doing to lean over Spock’s shoulder. Spock does not want to bother the doctor while he is busy, but he uses the opportunity to ask questions. They often end up lost in debate, and Spock has to remind the doctor to finish grading his papers.

When Spock clears his workspace and prepares to leave to find lunch, McCoy stops him. “Spock?”

Spock waits. McCoy crosses his arms in front of him, then uncrosses them. "I wanted to thank you for being patient with me."

Spock was not anticipating this. He doesn’t know how to respond. However, McCoy doesn’t look like he is expecting a response. “Now that I’ve spent more time with you - I really hadn’t known you at all. I’m sorry for saying you can’t be Vulcan because of your human blood. It was wrong of me.”

“Your apology is accepted, Doctor.” McCoy’s face is now very close. For a moment, Spock irrationally thinks the doctor will kiss him, but McCoy turns away back to his papers. “Let me know if you want to come back later.”

So Spock comes back when the sun goes down. It’s the first night they can stay and work without being asked to leave for maintenance. Spock loses track of time and they end up working much later than expected.

"You can come back to my place," McCoy says tentatively. Spock’s residence is not far, but they both understand the reasoning for their proposal. Bedsharing is a normal aspect of the process of bonding.

Spock keeps his tone as neutral as possible. "Thank you, Doctor."

McCoy waits. "So - that’s a yes?"

"Yes," Spock affirms, ignoring the way his heart rate is beginning to elevate.


	3. Chapter 3

They clean the lab and McCoy switches off the lights as they leave. The walk to McCoy’s apartment is silent. It is Spock’s first night sharing a bed with someone, and he refuses to feel nervous about it. "Spock." McCoy’s voice had not been loud at all, but Spock startles. McCoy huffs and pauses midstride. "You can say no anytime, Spock. You’re free to leave."

Spock squares his shoulders slightly. "Thank you Doctor, but that is unnecessary."

"My place is right here." McCoy tilts his head and Spock looks up at the brick building. "It’s a historic building, so no elevator. Thankfully I’m on the first floor."

The apartment is simple and not neat so much as barren of belongings to clutter the space. McCoy offers the use of the replicator for Spock to create towels and sleep wear. Spock replicates soft sweats and standard-issue Starfleet boxers before taking a sonic shower. He brushes his teeth next to McCoy, and the bathroom is barely large enough to contain both of them.

Spock slips into bed first, unable to stand the thought of entering with McCoy already lying in it. He regrets his choice immediately - the smell of McCoy envelops him, and he nearly feels dizzy. Some part of him dimly notices the bed is a very comfortable one - cool to the touch and soft under the weight of his body.

The lights switch off. "Move over a little." McCoy slumps to the mattress and Spock attempts to keep from tensing as McCoy settles behind him. Spock can feel his breath on the sensitive skin of his neck. It is a strange sensation. As they lie together, Spock feels the pace of his own heartbeat continue to rise. The darkness deepens and shrouds them. Is McCoy moving closer to Spock or is that his own paranoia?

"Doctor," Spock says, unable to keep quiet any longer.

"Yes, Spock?"

 _Doctor - are we having sex now?_ Spock slowly and turns to face McCoy. McCoy rests on his back, looking at the ceiling away from Spock. He has not yet touched Spock with a hand or leg or any body part. Spock finds himself unable to break the silence once more.

McCoy’s voice is soft. "What’s on your mind, Spock?"

Is he pretending not to comprehend the situation or does he truly have no ulterior motivations beyond sharing his bed? Spock’s face grows warmer. "Shall I remove my clothing first or yours?"

McCoy’s gaze flickers towards Spock, then away again. "No thank you, Spock. Please."

"Oh. Then - will you continue to deny any advances until your time, Doctor?"

"I don’t know," McCoy admits. "I think so."

They lapse back into temporary silence. Spock speaks up again. "Doctor, I couldn’t help noticing your records - indicated that you were previously married."

McCoy’s slow breathing does not alter. "Yes."

You are not obligated to elaborate. I am merely curious what occurred."

McCoy’s voice is rough. "I was betrothed from youth in traditional fashion, but there was great conflict between my human and non-human parents due to the arrangement."

Clearly McCoy was no longer in that arrangement as he was now here lying next to Spock. "What happened?"

McCoy sighs. "I already told you about how I can’t control my telepathy. That caused a lot of problems, both receiving and being read constantly. And then - during our first pon farr, the proximity telepathy was driving my ex-mate crazy. And I couldn’t stop. She had to have me sedated, and I ended that pon farr alone. I only barely survived because she’d been there for the first ten minutes of my blood fever."

"I’m sorry to hear that occurred," Spock says softly. To be rejected by one’s mate was one of the worst things a Vulcan could encounter.

McCoy doesn’t move when Spock brushes one finger to the back of his hand. "Our bond was barely formed beforehand, and that experience completely fragmented it. I’m still amazed I was able to survive that experience."

They fall silent. Spock cannot imagine the depth of pain McCoy had experienced. He could have chosen to treat Spock with contempt, forcing him to submit to his bidding, but he still offered Spock freedom to deny him. Despite the dire situation, McCoy is ready to be rejected again.

McCoy’s hand settles to cradle Spock’s torso, and Spock barely refrains from flinching. The hand remains there, not moving with no motion indicating intent. Spock eventually falls asleep, not knowing if McCoy fell asleep before him.

Spock wakes next morning with an erection. With a rare internal curse, Spock twists to look back at McCoy. He is still fast asleep with his arm still around Spock. Spock edges to McCoy’s bathroom and spends a half hour willing the erection down, fearful McCoy will wake at any moment and discover Spock’s state of arousal.

McCoy doesn’t come into the bathroom, and Spock finally peers back into the bedroom. McCoy is still asleep, but his arms are sprawled to Spock’s empty spot, as if seeking the warmth of a body that is no longer present.

Spock only hesitates approximately four seconds before slipping back under the blanket. Spock arranges McCoy’s arms back around himself and he lets his eyes fall closed again.

The rest of the month, surprisingly, passes by smoothly. Spock’s second semester of studies is uneventful. He splits his time between his studies, sleep, and trying to reassure an ever-fretful Jim that he’s fine during occasional meals when they both have time. Spock spends the majority of his free time in the graduate laboratory with McCoy. They still argue but after McCoy’s heartfelt apology, the dialogue is not harsh and defensive. They debate and challenge, and cheer together over new discoveries in their own ways. The nights that Spock spends with McCoy gradually increase, but the bedsharing remains chaste each time with McCoy not indicating he has changed his mind about consummating the bond.

One night Spock goes back to his own room and discovers that he is unable to sleep. McCoy makes no mention of Spock in his bed every night after that. He merely drapes an arm over Spock’s side with minute pressure drawing Spock closer to him.

McCoy’s time has almost arrived. Spock signs a form for obligatory leave, and Spock and McCoy travel back to Vulcan via an express shuttle provided by Starfleet. They disembark and arrive at the Vulcan-specific health care institution. A section of the buildings is divided into several mating chambers that are passively monitored for the participants’ safety. Most Vulcans opt not to use this service, preferring to spend pon farr in their private residences. Because Spock and McCoy are not already intimately involved and Spock is not Vulcan, they decided together to use a mating chamber.

The Vulcan healer leads them to the second door down the hallway, and they enter the preparation half of the chamber, which is separated from the inner chamber with a bed and second bathroom. The Vulcan healer hands Spock the assistance package. "If you require further assistance beyond the manual, there is a call button located in multiple locations, both in the preparation and inner sections."

The healer leaves, and Spock and McCoy are left in solitude. Unless Spock triggers the emergency sedation system calling for help, they will be alone until McCoy’s pon farr is complete.

McCoy reaches out and lightly massages Spock’s shoulders, and only then does Spock realize how tense he is. "I’m going to form the bond now."

Forming the preliminary bond would be one of the first things in the manual, a lengthy section of writing. Spock knows this because he has already read the manual several times. He faces McCoy, attempting to relax. "I am ready."

McCoy’s gentle hands rise to Spock’s meld points. Spock waits, and feels nothing. McCoy’s hands betray a small tremor. "Spock, you can still say no. Right now."

Spock meets the doctor’s eyes. "You may form the bond, Doctor."

There is still no sensation. McCoy exhales noisily. "Well?"

"Is it complete?" Spock asks. McCoy nods. Spock tilts his head. "It feels no different."

"I’d be concerned if it did," McCoy says, his voice rather hoarse. "That would mean you weren’t fully human this whole time."

"That’s true."

"Besides, it’ll grow stronger over time - and after - you know." McCoy backs away towards the door separating the inner section of the chamber. "I'll be waiting for you, alright?"

Spock nods again, and McCoy goes through the doorway, closing it behind himself. Spock turns his attention to the assistance package. It contains the heavy manual and standard implements to assist in sexual penetration. Spock's finger grazes against a small sealed vial at the corner of the box and stops. Spock knows exactly what this is without reading the vial and the detailed instructional manual.

Normally Vulcans that share pon farr match their uncontrollable passions, and the exchange of power is equal. As a non-Vulcan individual that does not experience pon farr, this vial is a consensual drug that Spock is allowed to take. It is a tightly controlled substance that induces a temporary and deep hibernation. It is intended to prevent a situation where the non-Vulcan changes their mind about consenting and cannot do anything to stop the pon farr drive.

Spock and McCoy had indeed grown very close within the last month, but Spock cannot deny how scared he is. The drug would mean that Spock would be rendered unconscious for the duration of McCoy's pon farr, made to forget the experience like a normal Vulcan. Spock picks up the vial. It nearly feels like betrayal to hold it.

Spock sets the vial back and checks the door is locked a final time before removing his clothing and stepping into the sonic shower stall. He opens the bottle of lube and attempts to keep his touch clinical as he works himself open rapidly, using two fingers, then three. Spock lubes the provided butt plug and presses it to his entrance. He bears down with gritted teeth, unable to control his body’s physical reaction to the pleasure of being filled.

Spock sighs and exits the stall. He looks back down at the box with the vial in the corner. He is running out of time to decide.

In the end, the fear overcomes. Spock uncaps the vial to consume the entirety of its contents. He gingerly sets the emptied bottle back down and shoves everything into the cycler. He opens the middle door to meet McCoy in the adjacent chamber. McCoy is sitting at the edge of the only bed, all clothing also divested. He stares at Spock’s bare body and Spock resists the urge to shield himself behind his hands.

McCoy watches Spock with a dubious expression as Spock gingerly sits on the bed next to him, trying not to direct pressure to the plug. "So? Did you take it?"

Spock startles. "What?"

"The sleeping medication, did you take it?"

"Oh." McCoy looks so concerned and caring and Spock is guilty for his betrayal of trust. "No. I did not take the medication."

McCoy's eyes go wide. "Really? I wasn't expecting that." His hands rise to either side of Spock’s face."You know it would be alright for you to take it, Spock? It's going to be a substantial mental strain. You're not obligated to share the burden with me like this."

Spock avoids eye contact with McCoy, removing his hands and crawling further onto the bed. McCoy's voice is gentle. "I can't deny, it makes me really happy. That you trust me that much."

Spock's blush deepens. He cannot admit the truth now.

McCoy’s hand hovers in midair, and when Spock doesn’t back away, McCoy runs a hand along his leg. "I think you should know. Back at the academy, Spock. . . I did recognize you."

Spock freezes. "You did?"

"The first time I saw you in that lecture hall. I thought, _it’s him. The one from the Battle of Vulcan that ran out of the library with a gash down his leg._ All I could think was how beautiful you looked. I looked forward to reading your class writings, and they were always beyond my expectations. I wished I could’ve talked to you about them, but I didn’t want to be accused of favoritism."

"You're lying," Spock breathes.

"Spock - Vulcans can't lie." A crooked smile touches McCoy's lips before he leans forward and brushes Spock’s lips with his own. Spock hesitantly tilts his neck, trying to mimic McCoy’s movements. McCoy gently kisses back, encouraging Spock’s lips to part, and Spock shudders tasting McCoy’s tart-sweet tongue. The texture of his beard is rough against Spock’s skin. McCoy hums against his lips. "Alright?"

Breathless, Spock just nods once. McCoy purrs and encourages Spock onto his back, one of his hands snaking down Spock’s torso. Spock gasps aloud when McCoy’s hand slips between his legs. " _Leonard_."

McCoy drags his palm up once, bringing languid pressure and friction. "Pleasurable?"

Spock nods again, unable to articulate the sensation he is experiencing. The wariness eases away as McCoy continues to stroke him. When McCoy takes hold of the end of the plug and teases it at Spock’s entrance, he arches with a whimper. McCoy groans, beginning to rut into the mattress. "Fuck, Spock, if you could look at yourself."

At that moment, a wave of dizziness causes Spock to sway. McCoy looks shocked. "Spock? Are you okay?"

The last thing Spock remembers before falling unconscious are McCoy's hands intimately pressed to his meld points. It is a futile effort. Spock has already fallen into dark nothingness.

Spock wakes with a dry throat. He is so parched he can barely breathe.

A shadow falls over him, then there’s a small, concerned voice. "Spock? You're awake. What do you need?"

"Water," Spock chokes out. "Please."

Something wet and cooling trickles down his throat, washing away a stale metallic bitterness. Now that his thirst is no longer distracting him, Spock is aware of how much his body aches all over. Stretched muscles, pricks and pains in his erogenous zones and his nipples and inner thighs and neck. His entrance feels raw and tender and used. Spock shifts and feels the discomfort all the way up inside of him.

It feels unclean.

Something touches his arm and Spock flinches. The voice returns. "Sorry, Spock, sorry. Should I turn the light on?"

"Light," Spock repeats. After a pause, a soft glow illuminates the bed and a worried, clothed McCoy is looking at him. Spock is under the covers, blankets brushing against his naked skin. He works his throat. "Is it over?"

"Yes," McCoy says softly. "It's over."

"That's good to know." Spock shifts and feels the disturbing pain again. "I - am pleased that it was resolved." Spock's voice trembles at the end of the sentence, and he blinks, bewildered.

"Spock." McCoy's concern is palpable in his voice, and Spock roughly wipes at the tears falling from his eyes. "Oh, sweetheart. Spock, can I hug you?"

Spock attempts to keep his tone casual. "Do as you please." Immediately McCoy wraps Spock in a secure embrace, tucking Spock against his chest. The fabric of his top smells like generic detergent. Spock averts his face as he continues to cry, humiliated by the messy show of emotions. He escaped having to experience the violence, he was completely unconscious the entire time, why does his body react like this? Why is he crying?

McCoy's voice pierces through Spock's thoughts. "It would be a traumatic experience for any sentient being, darling. It's okay to be alarmed."

Spock closes his eyes. "Are you not mad at me for lying? I told you I hadn't taken the medication."

"Of course I’m not mad." Spock moves his leg and realizes there is a bandage wrapped around his thigh. His wounds have already been expertly treated. "There's a bite that wouldn't stop bleeding," McCoy confesses. "You slept through the lingering effects of the mating drive. If you - need me to leave now, I can do that. But I would like to stay and take care of you."

Spock cannot reach a consensus on what to say. McCoy strokes Spock’s bangs and wipes away the residual tears. "Do you think you can eat?"

"Food - sounds favorable."

Spock feels a spoon pressed into his palm. "The healer came by recently to deliver food. I’ve already eaten mine." McCoy arranges a tray with plomeek soup and a soft grain bowl. It’s a fine texture, and the seasoning is not too strong. Spock consumes all of it. McCoy looks relieved. "I have this for you, too."

"Chocolate?" Spock blinks seeing the small dark square held between McCoy’s fingers. McCoy offers it to Spock, and Spock meets eyes with McCoy. He takes the proffered chocolate between his teeth and lets the earthy sweetness melt on his tongue.

The square of chocolate was from a small bar that McCoy’s broken into pieces. He continues to feed Spock, not letting a single piece fall from his cooler fingers. As the sweetness intensifies and melts slightly, Spock suckles on the tip of McCoy’s thumb, trying not to tense as he waits for a reaction.

"Nope." McCoy brushes Spock's lip with the thumb before drawing his hand back. "I promise the drive is completely gone. I’m not going to suddenly jump you."

Spock blushes. "Am I that obvious?"

"I’d be more concerned if you weren’t still scared out of your mind. It makes sense you’re testing me." McCoy stares at Spock’s lips before averting his gaze. "Why don’t you shower, Spock? I left clothing in the bathroom for you."

Spock nods and attempts to stand, only for his legs to give way. McCoy is immediately there to support him under the arms. "I’m fine." Spock brushes McCoy away, feeling more exposed than ever. McCoy reluctantly releases him, and Spock shakily makes his way to the bathroom, tightly closing the door. As he stands under the spray of the showerhead, he loses track of time.

Fearing McCoy will come in due to being concerned with how long Spock has been in the shower alone, Spock finishes washing, making sure to thoroughly clean inside of himself. He dresses in the light tunic and returns to the inner chamber bedroom. McCoy is busily changing the bedsheets, readjusting pillows. "Lie down, Spock." The moment Spock returns to the bed, McCoy scrutinizes his visible wounds, reapplying ointment where necessary. The balm tingles and soothes.

Spock does not expect to fall asleep again, but the warmth of the extra blanket enveloping him and exhaustion throughout his body makes his eyelids heavy. He dreams of something vast and unsettling.

Spock awakes to see McCoy standing with a healer that has entered the room. They speak to each other in low voices. The healer approaches, and Spock allows the healer to conduct a final check on his body with a medicorder before signing something on a PADD. The healer leaves, informing them that they should exit the chamber before twelve hundred Standard hours, but if they choose, they can stay in one of the overnight rooms for an extended period.

Spock unconsciously moves closer to McCoy as the healer works, until he is nearly pressed against McCoy’s side. McCoy keeps a loose hold around Spock’s waist even after the healer has left.

McCoy is looking at Spock’s lips, as if wanting to kiss him again. He does not lean forward. "So I guess this is it."

Spock tries to memorize McCoy’s gentle touch around him. "Yes."

McCoy’s words are halting. "It would be most logical to meet again in seven years - when my needs must be fulfilled again."

Spock nods slowly. "Yes. That is the most logical option."

"You have seven years to change your mind. Before the next pon farr."

Spock fidgets. "It would be difficult for you to be bonded to another, Leonard. Especially if you seek another psi-null mate." More likely McCoy would remain adrift, unbonded and unwanted and left to perish during his next pon farr. It would be a terrible thing to happen to such a fascinating, caring and brilliant person.

McCoy’s voice breaks through Spock’s thoughts. "I’d rather it be that than you being forced to do something against your will."

Silence. McCoy doesn't remove his hands from Spock's waist. Spock doesn't move away.

McCoy blurts, "Give me another chance, Spock." Spock starts at his volume, but McCoy doesn’t let go. His eyes are wide and desperate. "Vulcans can't forget, but - but could you forgive me? Could you give me a second chance? I want to do things right. For you."

Spock counts to ten, hoping it would be enough time to appear as if he has pondered his decision. "Allow me to complete my education."

"Anything," McCoy says immediately. "Let me know. Take all the time you need to make your decision."

"During the intermediary, I would prefer if we kept our - contact minimal."

"Physical? Or communication?" McCoy pauses. "Nevermind. Both, right?"

Spock dips his head, humiliated.

"No, Spock. It’s alright. I understand." McCoy cradles Spock’s cheeks, an unmistakable gratitude in his voice. "Spock? Thank you for everything."

Spock touches McCoy’s hands, meeting his eyes once more. "You’re welcome, Leonard."

They go outside the facility, and Spock is surprised to see his mother and _ko'mekh_ are waiting for him. "Ambassador Sarek," the doctor chokes. He fumbles a ta'al. _Ko'mekh_ raises an eyebrow but returns the gesture. Mother hugs Spock close before exchanging greetings with McCoy, and their dialogue remains polite but awkward. Spock does not envy the doctor’s position.

 _Ko'mekh_ moves to Spock’s side, and Spock irrationally feels a sense of safety standing between his parents. _Ko'mekh_ is curious about McCoy’s research and asks him a few questions before Mother interrupts her, not wanting to take any more of the doctor’s time. Spock will stay with his parents for the remainder of his leave. Mother noticeably doesn’t offer McCoy a visit to their residence later. _Ko'mekh_ and McCoy don’t comment on it.

As they part ways, Spock wonders how long it will be before he misses McCoy’s touch. The answer is two and a half hours.

When Spock and Jim graduate three years later, the first thing Jim does is wrap Spock in a hug and laugh aloud. Jim has received the opportunity to be the commander on a starship preparing to embark on a five-year mission. Jim requests for Spock to join his crew.

Spock, of course, accepts.

The first day he is cleared to board the grand vessel, Spock beams aboard and goes down to the medical bay. He watches the chief medical officer work from afar. He always did look his best when he was working.

Spock keeps his face neutral when McCoy looks up and does a double take. His face goes from confusion, to shock, to happiness and then apprehension. It’s a marvelous progression to watch.

McCoy completes the task he had been working on and rinses his hands. He approaches Spock with caution, as if expecting Spock to run away.

"I offer my congratulations on receiving the position of chief medical officer," Spock says.

McCoy’s crooked smile is back. "Thank you." McCoy looks behind Spock and back at him again. "How long have you been hanging out here?"

Spock realizes at that moment how much time has passed since he has interacted with the doctor, and his chest might burst from the happiness building up in it. It’s a strange feeling. "I have not been here long."

McCoy’s eyes suddenly change with realization. "Wait. If you’re here - are you going to be on this five year mission?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

Spock allows a hint of pride to tint his voice. "I have finalized my application. I am guaranteed a role aboard the _Enterprise._ "

McCoy’s hands grip his PADD too tightly. "You were aware of the crew roster?"

"Compatibility is an essential element to the success of any long-term expedition. Of course I checked the crew roster, Leonard."

McCoy stares, slack-jawed, and then trepidation turns into hope. It looks beautiful in his dark eyes. "This is our second chance, then?"

Spock will never tell the doctor, but there will always be a second chance for him.

"Yes, Leonard," Spock says softly, touching his two fingers to McCoy’s. "It is."


End file.
